The Devouring Gray(25)

The only piece of furniture in the room was a scarred wooden table, right beneath the room’s only window.

Violet was drawn to a calligraphic print hanging on the wall. Writing at the top identified it as the Founders’ Legacy, whatever that meant.

She read the words like a poem.

Branches, they twine & grow about the forest; they will tell you where to plant your roots & prune those that disagree.

Daggers, their allies, weakened in their Leader’s absence; they raise their hands in the air & shatter the world & put it back together.

Stones, stalwart & steady—do not discount the builders, for they can always break what they have made.

& Bones, masters of all things, the Living & the Dead.

Do not question these who have braved that which ye will never understand.

Praise them instead & do not falter in the tasks they command.

Only then may you reach salvation.

The print stirred something inside of her that she wasn’t sure how to explain. Like a flower unfurling for the first time.

Have you tried looking in the woods, little bone?

Like she was finally waking up.

“Snooping?”

The voice was low and acrid. Violet knew before she turned her head that it belonged to Isaac, but she wasn’t prepared for the way he was looking at the print.

Like he wanted to rip it to shreds.

“I was told to come here.” The words came out a shade more defensive than she wanted them to. “Not my fault Justin and May are late.”

“They weren’t expecting you to clean up so quickly.” Isaac was taller than she remembered; broad-shouldered but lanky. His flannel shirt had been buttoned up to the collar, obscuring his throat. “The Gray isn’t something people usually process in a few minutes.”

Isaac studied Violet’s face as she glared back. If he was looking for fear, he wasn’t going to find it.

The Gray was scary, sure. But it was nothing compared to losing Rosie.

“It takes a lot to freak me out,” she said. Thinking about the Gray reminded her of how she’d gotten out. Of Isaac, his arms outstretched like he was holding up the universe. “You can open the Gray, too. How?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask a real question.” Isaac gestured toward the print. She’d noticed the medallions at his wrists but saw for the first time that while one was a perfect pane of red glass, the other was horribly cracked. “I’m a Sullivan. It’s like it says in the creed—we raise our hands in the air, and we shatter the world.”

Violet looked at the print again, a shudder running down her spine. Branches, stones, daggers, bones—

“So, what, you break things?”

“Bones, walls, supernatural barriers,” said Isaac. “Also hearts. But I don’t need magic to do that.”

“Hilarious,” drawled Violet, like he hadn’t just said magic so casually, tossing the word out there like it wasn’t the impossibility she’d believed it was a month ago. “So that’s a creed? A creed for what?”

Isaac shook his head. “You really don’t know anything. And yet Justin seems so convinced you’re going to help us.”

“What do you think?”

Isaac’s eyes met hers. They looked like burned-out matches. “Honestly? I think you’re trouble.”

Violet bristled, but before she could respond, Justin and May appeared in the doorway. Violet saw immediately how they belonged to this room, and it belonged to them. They fit here the way Daria fit in her rocking chair. The way Violet had fit in her and Rosie’s old art studio. It was the place where they were most themselves.

“Making friends, I see,” said May, holding up a mug. Steam wafted across the room, and Violet caught a whiff of cinnamon and something else, something woodsy. Even though they were inside, she couldn’t shake the impression that this room was somehow part of the forest. “Coffee?”

“Absolutely.” Violet raised the mug to her lips and took a grateful sip, then followed Justin and May to the table by the window. Isaac joined them a moment later. The only source of light was a chandelier with bronze arms sculpted in the shape of branches. It cast a dim yellow glow on Justin’s and May’s faces, accentuating their high cheekbones.

“We hope you’re okay,” said Justin. “What happened to you today…well, it shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“So things in Four Paths aren’t…always like this?” Violet said cautiously, thinking of Frank Anders again.

Justin shook his head. “No. I’m not sure how much you know about this town, but our family is dedicated to keeping Four Paths safe.”

“She obviously knows enough, if she can do what you said.” The crimson pendant at May’s neck gleamed in the dim light, and Violet realized it was the same red glass as Isaac’s bracelets, as the sheriff’s badge.

Across the table, Isaac nodded. “I’m with May. There’s no way she resurrected something without a ritual.”

“Ritual?” Violet was lost. “What ritual?”

May let out a sharp, disbelieving snort.

“Violet, I was looking for you because I thought you could help us,” said Justin, giving May and Isaac a frown that looked a lot like a warning. “Now I think we might be able to help each other. The three of us know almost everything there is to know about this town. So why don’t you tell us what you’re curious about, and let us fill in the blanks?”